Just One Glass
by Dan Sickles
Summary: Just one glass of champagne sends Polly Parker spinning into an endless nightmare. But is Polly really just an innocent victim? Chilling Twilight Zone horror, rated T for mature themes, drugs, sex and alcohol.


JUST ONE GLASS

_This is my second Twilight Zone fanfic. I do not own the timeless talent of Rod Serling. Please comment nicely! _

NARRATOR: _Meet __Polly __Parker, __former __CEO __of __Parker __Industries. __At __present, __a __murder __suspect __seeking __to __beat __the __rap. __Polly's __only __crime __was __drinking __too __much __and __loving __the __wrong __man. __But __when __she __takes __her __next __drink __Polly __will __escape __from __the __black __and __white __of __the __criminal justice system __and __enter __that __vast __gray __area __known __as __.__.__. __The __Twilight __Zone._

_Scene One: Just One Glass_

Maybe it was her pounding headache, or the way her hands kept shaking as she scrawled her signature over and over. But as she signed the lengthy legal document that was designed to keep her out of jail, all Polly Parker could think about was the drink waiting for her in her father's office.

No, that wasn't right. It was Cousin Eleanor's office now.

"Now don't you worry about the Grand Jury, honey," Eleanor told her. The black-eyed beauty crossed her long legs, leaning back in the big leather chair. Polly used to sit there on her father's lap. "Our deal will keep the D. A. quiet. And since it gives me full control of Parker Industries, it will also help clean up our public image. First of course we've got to get you out of the spotlight. How about a tropical cruise, with a few decadent extras? Or maybe a few weeks of massage therapy at a spa in Switzerland. Someplace secluded, with total privacy and no reporters."

"I guess it would do me good to get away for a while." Racked with guilt, the baby-faced blonde squirmed in her seat. If only she hadn't blacked out that night! Thanks to all the drinks she'd put away, all Polly remembered was waking up next to poor sweet Terry's bloody corpse. "Maybe I can kick booze while I'm lying low in that fancy spa," she blurted out, anxious to turn over a new leaf.

"Of course you will, honey. You're going to make a brand new start. But first, how about a little going-away party?" Eleanor buzzed her male secretary, a real knockout who came trotting right in with champagne. Polly only wanted one glass to celebrate. Just one glass . . .

_Scene Two: Ocean View_

"Now that is what I call an ocean view," Mrs. Huntley Mannering purred.

"Ocean view? Huh?" Polly opened her eyes, surprised to find herself lying in a deep-cushioned deck chair in a tiny bikini, with a fresh drink in her hand and a truly irresistible pair of tight male buns flashing before her eyes. All of the stewards on this cruise ship were tall, bronzed bodybuilder types. And they all wore nothing but skimpy swimsuits when they served the passengers on deck – unless they wore nothing at all.

"Now that's something I'd like to have sent to my cabin," the wealthy old woman beside her murmured.

"Mm." Polly was enjoying her cruise, but she hadn't taken full advantage of all the extras. Not yet anyway. Just then the steward in question turned around and looked at her.

And smiled.

"Terry?" The shapely little blonde put down her drink. She sat bolt upright in her chair, shading her baby-blue eyes with one hand while summoning the steward with the other.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" _Ooh, __yes __you __can_. Those warm, chocolate-brown eyes, those slim hips and perfectly sculpted abs, even the cute little cleft in his chin . . . it was him! It was Terry, the young fitness instructor Polly had fallen for, just after daddy died and she took over Parker Industries.

"Terry, don't you know me?"

A sweet look of confusion passed over the young hunk's face. "I feel like we've met before," he confessed. "But I don't remember . . ."

_Scene Three: Under the Palms_

"It's never been like this for me before." Polly sighed, feeling absolutely dreamy after a whole afternoon alone with Terry. Sex under a shady palm tree was definitely an extra she could get used to, she thought.

"We should be getting back to the ship." The lean, suntanned steward rolled off the sweaty blanket and swiftly began dressing himself, shyly keeping his back to her.

"It's all right." Polly propped herself up, enjoying the view. Terry was still half-naked. After all he'd hardly been wearing any clothes in the first place. "Honey, I'm going to take care of you. You won't have to work at the fitness center any more. Or take money from those other women."

"The fitness center? Lady, I don't work at any fitness center. I don't work anywhere . . . any more." Terry turned to look at her. In the shade his eyes weren't chocolate brown. They were black, like Cousin Eleanor's.

"Terry!" Polly sat up at once, desperately pulling the tight, twisted bikini straps over her plump, sunburned shoulders. But it was too late. Terry was gone.

"Terry, please!" Polly jumped up and ran after him. Only the way back to the beach was longer than she thought. The thick, tangled vines kept tripping her, blinding her, until at last she stumbled and fell. Suddenly Polly was lying right on top of the hacked and bloody corpse of the man she loved.

"Feel like kissing me now?" The corpse opened his eyes, and smiled the most horrible smile. "I forgive you, Polly. You couldn't help what you did. We were over a long time ago."

Polly screamed. And then everything went black.

_Scene Four: Fade To Gray_

"Everything's gray," Polly complained, when the big blonde orderly came around with her afternoon injection.

"It is snowing," the male nurse replied, swabbing her arm.

"Just like yesterday," Polly sighed. "And the day before that. And the day before that, and – _ouch!_ – the day before that."

"It snows often in Switzerland," the orderly told her. He wasn't exactly a mental giant. But he did have a cute behind. Polly giggled as she watched him leave the room.

Then she started to cry.

The tears never lasted long, of course. The injections took care of that. But sometimes, when she was lying on the bed after a shot, waiting for the gray nothingness to come back, Polly got little glimmers of memory. Flashes of clear thought.

Eleanor had been hot to take over Parker Industries from day one. She was the one in the garden that night with Terry. When Polly caught them alone together, she hadn't snapped. Instead she'd coldly told Eleanor she was through. And her dark, deceitful cousin had fled the garden, leaving poor sweet Terry all alone with _her_ lipstick all over his face.

Poor Terry couldn't face the truth. Instead of admitting he was weak, he tried to blame her. He said she needed _help_. He said her drinking was driving them apart. Knowing Eleanor had put him up to it made Polly so mad!

But she couldn't remember what had happened next. She couldn't! Instead of blackouts from booze, all Polly had now was a soft grayness from all the drugs they kept pumping into her. And every day the grayness grew more inviting.

NARRATOR: _Portrait __of __an __innocent __victim, __a __grim __reminder __that __even __the __most __pleasurable __escape __can __become __a __life long __prison. __A __public __service __message __brought __to __you __by __Parker __Industries __.__.__. __and __the __Twilight __Zone._


End file.
